Scott Andrew - lo-fi acoustic pop superhero!

This weekend the hummingbird returned, with his significant other in tow. I have decided to name him Screechy (short for “Mister McScreechykins”) in reference to his unique brand of singing, which sounds not unlike a giant metal cricket and shards of glass being squished through a meat grinder with digital distortion.

On Saturday we drove up to Sebastopol to watch the sky fall from Paul’s backyard. I stopped counting at 70, despite the ample fog. Then, on the way back to the city, the fog cleared out just north of San Rafael. We pulled over to watch from the entrance of a state park. I’ve never seen so many shooting stars. Some flared so brightly they lit the ground beneath (what causes that? Size? Magnesium?). We easily saw 50-60 meteors in the twenty minutes we spent at the park. I should mention that the skies of Northern California at night are not black, but deep cobalt blue. Especially away from city lights. I could actually see all of the Pleiades (including the papoose) and some stars behind Orion I didn’t even know were there.